


You’ll Be Alright (Come Morning Light)

by Little_Red92



Series: I'll Find you in Sleepless Nights [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Language, M/M, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-28
Updated: 2012-09-28
Packaged: 2017-11-15 04:36:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/523210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_Red92/pseuds/Little_Red92
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So I'm not 100 precent sure if there will be another story to this series but if my muse gives me a good idea I will continue it =)</p></blockquote>





	You’ll Be Alright (Come Morning Light)

**Mistakes are my own**

 

It’s raining. Why does it have to be raining? It feels like such a cliché, a stupid cliché that would only ever happen to Stiles because he has shit luck to go with his terrible life. Ok, so he’s life isn’t one hundred precent terrible it’s just about eighty-five precent terrible or maybe that’s being kind? No, that’s about right, after all he did survive the big show down with Gerard Argent and The Kanima and on the up side no one died, well maybe Gerard did but he was an awful fucking crazy person. So he survived, Scott survived and so did Derek and the rest of his pack, Jackson was no longer killing people, the Argents had backed off and everything was sunshine and puppies.

Would be sunshine and puppies…

Or maybe it was just the calm before the storm because really, everything went too well. Stiles lies awake at night thinking about all the things he’s seen, that he’s been through, that the people he loves and cares about have been through and he can feel the panic rise, squeezing air from his lungs. He hasn’t slept a night since the lacrosse game, he’ll close his eyes and be back in that basement, poor Erica and Boyd hanging from the ceiling, Gerard advancing towards him in slow menacing steps, hands clasped tightly into fists. That’s just a memory; the nightmares are so, _so_ much worse.

They are twisted with his hallucinations from Lydia’s party, memories of the night Matt held him, Scott and his father hostage at the station and they are filled with blood and death. When he wakes up he doesn’t know what’s real anymore. It’s just hell and Winston Churchill said ‘When you’re going through hell, keep going’ but he doesn’t think he can, the fight is over but the battle is just ahead. Nightmares keep him awake; his thoughts run wild, always, _always_ weaving into a fine mess. He doesn’t know what to do anymore, he feels so lost.

Not that driving around the woods at night is a good way to find his way. If anything he is more lost, only literally, and this is Beacon Hills, not very big at all and Stiles Stilinski is lost. It is raining though and his windscreen wipers are shot and he can’t see a damn thing! So yeah, he should really pull over but it’s like one in the morning and he needs to get home before his dad leaves in the morning and the stupid rain isn’t letting up anytime soon. So he’ll keep going.

He’ll try and keep going.

Tired of the heavy rain beating against the roof Stiles reaches for his iPod, it’s here somewhere; he knows it. His backpack is tossed to the floor, because it’s not in there, there are a few books on the seat and no doubt his iPod is hidden under there because he can’t leave it in plain sight. He only takes his eyes off the road for a moment, well he thought it was a moment but really it could have been longer, and when he looked back up the Jeep is drifting off course, towards the side of the road where the is a pick of trees to hit.

Stiles forgets how to breathe, he forgets how to drive and everything seems to just fade away. A memory of his dad’s smiling face flashes into his mind, he’s leaning against the Jeep, it’s old, a little dirty and not a Porsche, which Stiles really wanted, but it’s perfect. Without hesitation he rushes towards his dad, flinging himself into his arms and giving him a hug, saying thank you over and over.

“Only the best for my kid” His dad is grinning, offering the key to Stiles.

“I’ll drive carefully I swear” and he will, of course he will, he’d never leave his dad alone.

“I know” his father look’s so proud, squeezing his hand softly as places the key into his son’s palm. “Don’t take your eyes off the road, ok son?” the smile is gone, washed away by the memory of lose “not even for a second.”

There’s a horrid sound, like some sort of howl of pain, _of terror_ but he can hear it, can smell the rain, feel the blood drip down his face and it means that he’s not dead. He’s alive, he’s still alive.

***

Things are fogging for a while. There is the distant smell of rain and burnt rubber, some sort of hissing noise that is coming from under the hood and a buzzing in his head. There are no wild, mad rushing thoughts; his head is empty of them. It’s a nice feeling, calm and quiet and he briefly wonders if he has brain damage and if so he doesn’t mind, this is rather peaceful. Or maybe he’s dying, bleeding internally and in the morning someone will drive past and see his Jeep wrapped around a tree and call the sheriff and his father will arrive on the scene and find his lifeless body.

Oh God he needs to get out of here, to get help before things get worse. Not that this night could get worse, he’s already totalled his beloved Jeep and is possibly dying all because he took his eyes of the stupid road. Fuck.  With everything he has he fights away the fog, the way he wished he fought away Gerard Argent, he fights and struggles his way to the surface and when he gets there he takes a deep breath. Oh God it hurts, stupid seat belt, stupid rain, stupid car, stupid life!

Ok he feels marginally better now; enough to move at least. Ok, so he needs help and to get help he needs his phone, which is... flat. For the love of God he thought he charged that yesterday or maybe it was his iPod, fuck. He’ll have to walk, there is no other option… or maybe there is? He may not know exactly where he is but he is deep in the woods and these woods are full with werewolves. God please let Derek hear him, please.

With a deep breath that rattles his ribs and makes them ach in a way he didn’t know was possible he opens his mouth and screams. “DEREK!” Its seems only a heartbeat later and the door to Stiles’s Jeep is being violent ripped open, Derek Hale standing in the darkness, drenched to the bone. “Thank God you heard me.”

“What the hell happened?” Derek’s eyes were moving rapidly over Stiles’s body, searching for injuries.

“What’s it looked like happened?” he demanded, too tired, sore and scared to say anything witty. “I crashed my Jeep.”

“Can you move?” the Alpha leaned into the car, unbuckling the teens seatbelt before moving back and prodding at the cut above Stiles’s right eye. “This might need stiches; I should get you to the hospital.”

“I can move” he murmured shifting slightly so he was facing Derek, who carefully wrapped his arms around him and ever so gently lifted him out of the car, it reminded him of the night Derek carried him through the woods. “I’m not Bella Swan; I don’t need carrying around like some damsel and distress.”

“Well right now you are” he grumbled, moving away from the Jeep which Stiles chose not to look at for fear of his heart breaking. “I haven’t got my car so we’ll move faster if I carry you anyway.”

“Why didn’t you bring your car? It’s raining cats and dogs or werewolves and cats or werewolves and were-cats” Stiles babbled as Derek started to jog, somehow managing not to jostle him “are there such things as were-cats?”

“I’d be worried that you might have concussion if this wasn’t how you acted all the time.”

“Maybe a small one” the woods were already thinning, the rain felt lighter, Stiles felt dizzy. “I’m going to give my dad a heart attack.”

“Probably” Derek said, suddenly coming to a stop at the side of the road, it was eerily silent. “Can you stand?”

“God I hope so, cause this is getting embarrassing.” Slowly the teen was lowered to the ground; the rain seemed to stop just as two bright headlights appeared up ahead. It took a few moments for Stiles to realise that it was a cab coming towards them, Derek was hailing it down. “I’m so very glad you weren’t going to run me all the way to the ER.”

Derek didn’t say anything, just tightened his hold on the boys waist as the cab eased to a stop beside them.

**XxX**

The sun is almost rising by the time he is discharged from the hospital, with a bottle of pills for the pain and strict orders to take it easy. It’s just another terrible night to add to the lists of terrible nights that have been happening lately, only this one seems so much worse. Maybe it’s because the nights Stiles has been facing hunters or crazy supernatural beings he’s father had thought he was home safe, studying or hanging out with Scott. Unlike tonight, where his father had to receive a phone call telling him that his son had been in a car accident and was currently in the ER after being brought in by a suspected murder who was actually a werewolf and who Stiles liked more then he really should.

So tonight sucked, really, really sucked. The memory of his dad rushing into the emergency rooms demanding to know where ‘his son was’ is haunting Stiles, he hadn’t seen his father that afraid since his mother died. God it was an awful night. Now he is sitting in the cruiser, not far from home and his dad keeps casting worried glances his way, like at any more he’ll disappear. He can understand that feeling, it’s one he is rather familiar with these days.

 “I’m taking the next few days off, ok” his father announced, startling Stiles from his troubled thoughts.

“Dad, I’m fine, you don’t need to.” Of course Stiles was lying, he really wasn’t fine, hadn’t been fine in oh so long. But his dad couldn’t help him with his problems and he sure as hell didn’t want his dad to be around enough to realise how twitchy and distressed he was. “Just some bruised ribs, I’m all good.”

“You totalled you’re car Stiles and it’s not just some bruised ribs.” The anger in his father’s voice frightened Stiles; there was just too much anger going around and Stiles never was comfortable with it, not this kind anyway. “Do you have any idea how frightening it is to get a call saying that you’re only kid has been in a car crash.” It was a rhetorical question and Stiles liked to answer rhetorical questions but he had nothing to say, what could he say? “Christ, I’m sorry Stiles, I was just so worried.”

“I know dad and I’m sorry too.”

Luckily for both Stilinski men they had arrived home, ending this emotion conversation before it got worse. The house had felt like a prison these past few weeks, too many memories inside those walls, but right now it had never looked so good, so safe and sound. And Stiles was so tired, so exhausted from all the hell he’d been through and with the pain medication pupping through his veins he’d surely be able to get some much needed sleep.

**XxX**

Derek Hale sneaking in through his window startled him awake. Really though, he shouldn’t be surprised anymore, he’ lost count of how many times Derek had snuck into his room, be it middle of the night, early morning or middle of the day. Right now Stiles wasn’t sure of the time, it was nearly dawn when his father had settled him into bed, staying until he succumbed to sleep and no doubt long after that. It seemed almost dark again, perhaps night was nearly here.

Derek made his way quietly towards Stiles single bed, those green eyes flickering all over Stiles’s face, taking in every inch of skin. He must look a wreck, he can feel that his right eye is nearly swollen shut, above his brow are five stitches that are covered with a thin gauze bandage and hidden under his clothes are a collection of bruises. All in all he is so, _so_ very lucky, unlike his car, which sadly may be a write-off. Anyway he’s drifting and Derek Hale is in his room, looking broody and bad-ass.

“Are you ok?” Derek speaks first, hovering at the edge of the teen’s bed, like he’s waiting to be invited to stay, which is odd because Derek stays where ever he wants to stay.

“Bruised ribs and a sprained wrist,” he replied, patting the bed to let the Alpha know he wants him to stay, _to stay always_ “and five stitches.”

“You’re lucky,” Derek said gruffly, picking at the hole in his jeans “it could have been a lot worse.”

“Yeah, I know” Stiles sighed, flopping back against his mountain of pillows, even doing that made his ribs ache. “Thank you for saving me, again I might add.”

“We keep doing this, don’t we?” the werewolf looked up at Stiles, green eyes swimming with something the teen couldn’t quiet identify “Saving each other.”

“Kinda romantic,” he quipped only to regret it instantly, because there would be nothing romantic between him and Derek, like ever. They may have tentatively become friends but Stiles was just a boy, an underage boy and Derek was a werewolf, an alpha werewolf so, yeah there would never be anything more between them. No matter how many time they saved each other. Clearly he’d made Derek feel awkward because he was about to tear the small hole in his jeans into a huge one and Stiles was sure Derek only own two pairs of jeans.

“I wonder if this will scar?” he asked, gesturing at the gauze on his forehead “that’d be cool.”

Derek rolled his eyes; well at least he didn’t look awkward anymore, good. “Maybe. If so, it will remind you not to drive while you’ll exhausted.”

“I couldn’t sleep” he replied. He had to tell someone, keeping all his fear bottled in had nearly killed him and he just wanted some peace of mind, he wanted to feel safe and no one made him feel as safe as Derek did. Not that he’d ever tell him that, “Haven’t been able to since we fought Jackson and the Argents.”

The Alpha signed heavily, pressing his body closer to the teens, “Scott should have protected you better.”

“I don’t blame Scott” he shot back.

Derek moved closer, placing one large hand over Stiles’s heart, which began to pound heavily. He shifted under the wolf’s gaze, God Derek always looked so intense, couldn’t he ever just relax?

“You’re heart says otherwise.”

“Huh?” what were they talking about again? Derek was too close and Stiles just wanted to throw his arms around the werewolf’s neck and never let go.

“You’re lying, Stiles.”

Oh, right, they were talking about the whole getting kidnapped by Grandpa Argent thing. “I do.” He blamed Scott for not protecting him, for always being there for Allison, always protecting her but forgetting that he needed someone to watch his back to. He wasn’t a werewolf, he didn’t have any fighting skills what-so-ever and maybe if he did he might have managed to not get kidnapped by some old guy and his goons. But he was useless, he was utterly human. “I do,”

Stiles felt like he was about to drown which was ironic considering the whole Matt-Jackson-Kanima thing but he couldn’t breathe. God he had felt so afraid, so god damn scared but he had to keep it all together because Scott needed him and his dad needed him but he needed someone too and every time he turned around looking for his best friend he found himself alone. He was human, one hundred precent human with no healing powers or supernatural abilities, he was a human boy running with wolves and he needed someone to protect him.

If it had been any other day, any other week, Stiles wouldn’t have ever allowed himself to look so weak in front of someone, especially not Derek Hale but it wasn’t some other day, it was today and he had no strength left to fight with. So he let go of all the pain and fear and despair, he cried for the innocence that he had lost, for the friends that he had lost. He let go of everything that had built up over the last few months and while he sobbed Derek wrapped him in arms and held him until every last tear had been shad.

**XxX**

Stiles stays in for the next few nights, not that he could go anywhere if he wanted to. His car is in ruins, his dad is a bit of wreck, the guy has been watching him like a hawk for the last two days and it’s starting to smother him. He loves his dad but really, he needs to let up, he is fine, well ok not fine but his dad doesn’t need to know about the nightmares that leave him soaked in sweat and gasping for breath. He couldn’t begin to tell his father about them, how do you explain to someone you’re having terrifying dreams about being held captive by a crazy hunter?

Yeah, that’d get him a one way ticket to the nut house… then again maybe he’d be a lot safer there then here. He’s been stuck indoors far too long, he needs fresh air, something, anything to keep his mind off his troubled thoughts. He considers calling Scott but Allison broke up with him again and he doesn’t want to burden him with his problems and as much as he loves his best friend, Scott just doesn’t seem to calm his mind.

Not like Derek.

Who makes Stiles feel incredible calm and safe and a hundred other things that he’d rather not think about because he’s getting in too deep. He’s already lost, completely consumed by his feelings towards the Alpha; he’s just not willing to admit it to himself just yet. So he’ll lay restless in the darkness, thoughts swirling madly around his head until he falls into sleep where he’ll dream of monsters.

It’s two in the morning when Stiles wakes up to the familiar sound of his bedroom window sliding open. He can’t see anything in the dark and he really should be afraid, hell he should probably lock his windows but then he’d be keeping out his secret night visitor and he really doesn’t want to do that. He’s used to this though, he knows the sound of Derek’s footsteps, can tell the pattern of his breathing and smell the forest on his skin. His father hadn’t returned to work since the accident but since there wasn’t any crazed supernatural beings killing people they hadn’t needed the sheriff which is why Derek was sneaking in at the early hours of the morning.

However his dad couldn’t stay home for any longer, no matter how much he wanted to keep an eye on his son, so tomorrow he would return to work and Stiles would finally escape into the night. He really should stop hanging out with werewolves, they were messing him up. He didn’t mind though, it was worth it to have Derek Hale crawl into his bed and chase away the monster and calm his mind.

 It was worth it to feel safe and sound.

**XxX**

The next night Stiles convinces Derek to take him somewhere, anywhere, just get him out of the house before he goes stir crazy. Derek rolls his, which is typically; really if he’s not all broody he’s rolling his eyes. Stiles considers telling him to upgrade his mood app but that might mean he’ll be home alone. So he shuts up and gives Derek his best puppy eyes and there is another eye roll before a deep sigh and the Alpha is agreeing to take Stiles out for a while. Stiles goes to fist pump but winces, his breath catching in his throat, god he forget about how sore his ribs were and Derek is looking concerned which is a step up from broody.

“I’m fine” Stiles snapped, “Just no extreme sporting, ok?”

Derek reaches out towards the teen, grabbing the hem of his shirt before Stiles even registers what he’s doing. He lifts the fabric up half way, revealing the fading bruises, they are yellow and green and really gross, also Derek Hale is staring at his bare chest: Breathe Stiles, breathe.

“You could at least buy me a drink first” he quips because he needs to get the wolf’s attention away from him before he hyperventilates.

Derek huffs, gently settling the material back in place, his knuckles lingering against Stiles bear skin a few seconds longer. Derek quickly stands up, reaching into his pocket for his keys, Stiles sucks in a much needed breath of air. “C’mon, let’s go before I change my mind.”

They tension fades as Stiles face lights up with a grin; Derek offers him a small one in return. They disappear into the night; they drink coffee at eerie diners, play music loudly while they cruise along the deserted roads. Stiles falls asleep in the car, the engine a comforting lullaby in the background and Derek’s leather jacket a familiar weight against his chest. In the morning he wakes up beside the werewolf, he gives him a small smile before they race the rising sun to get home.

Each night is a new adventure. Derek will materialise in Stiles bedroom sometime between ten and elven, he doesn’t need to say a word, Stiles will just drop whatever it is that he is doing (which honestly isn’t much) and they’ll head out for another night of roaming near empty grocery stores and drinking watered down coffee at shady diners. They don’t do anything special, they don’t go anywhere nice and Stiles does most of the talking but it has Stiles counting down the hours of the day, waiting for night so he can escape from everything.

So he can be with Derek.

It’s been a week since he crashed his beloved Jeep, the bruises have faded and the stitches have been removed and all that is left is a thin purple red-ish scar to remind him to drive safely. He’ at his usual place, beside Derek as they drive through the roads that wind through the woods; in the dark Stiles has no idea where they are going but he has a feeling they are heading towards the burnt remains of the Hale House. Stiles often wonders where the rest of the pack is, he hasn’t seen Erica or Body since the night Gerard took him and Derek hasn’t said anything and he really wants to ask but at the same time he doesn’t.

These are the only hours Stiles can escape all of the mad thoughts rushing around in his mind and if it makes him kind of selfish not asking about them then he doesn’t care. For all he knew Erica and Body could be safe, lurking around some abandon building somewhere, doing their wolfy things. He knows Isaac is safe, he was last seen alive and Stiles is pretty sure Scott would let him know if something had happened to him. That just left Peter… which Stiles does not want to think about, at all. He’s had enough nightmares about the guy for a life time so he sure as hell doesn’t want to see him in the flesh.

The car coming to a stop snaps the teen from his thoughts, looking out the windscreen Stiles can see the skeleton remains of the Hale house looming ominously in the moonlight.  It would have been beautiful once; magnificent even but now it’s nothing more than bones and ash. Something blue catches Stiles eye, turning sharply away from the house he sees his beloved Jeep parked just a few feet from where they are sitting, it’s old and rusty but nothing has ever looked so beautiful.

Stiles scrambles out of the car, rushing towards the jeep, as he draws closer he can see that the front bumper is gone, so is the hood and most of the engine, it’s just as skeleton as the house. It really breaks his heart, he’s been through a lot with her and all it took was a stupid mistake for her to end up here, another reminder of death. Derek is behind him, a large hand resting at the small of his back, his hot breath ticking his neck. It makes the ache in his heart go away.

“I can fix it.”

Stiles pivots so suddenly that Derek doesn’t even have time to move his hand, now its resting against his stomach, soothing his nerves. “Oh my God, really?” he exclaims, far too loud for the quiet night and no doubt even louder in the wolf’s ears. And in true Stiles Stilinski fashion his actions jump ahead of his thoughts, he closes the distance between them, pressing his lips to Derek’s in a quick kiss, when he pulls back he nearly topples over from sheer shock of his own stupidity. Luckily Derek grabs him before he can continue to make an ass of himself.

He goes to talk, to apologise but no words come out, which has to be the first time ever, since Stiles always has a lot to say and when he really needs words he is speechless. He wants to turn away, climb into his jeep and drive home and hide under his bed for the rest of his life. But his car has a half an engine so he won’t be going anywhere and he really, _really_ needs to say something because Derek isn’t.

“If you want to kill me, go right ahead” he finally manages “you’ll be doing me a favour.”

Derek just stares and its fucking scary because Stiles has no clue what is going on in the wolfs head, the expression on his face is unreadable and Stiles briefly considers taking Derek’s car and driving home so he can hide under his bed forever. The Alpha is holding onto him though, not a bone crushing hold, just a ‘don’t leave’ kind of hold and suddenly Stiles gets it, he finally sees what he hasn’t been able to see before. Derek likes him too, not in the friend’s kind of way but in the ‘I could write love songs about you’ kind of way, not that Derek would ever write him a love song.

“What?”

Stiles jumps, oh shit maybe he said that aloud, judging by the werewolf’s face he did. “Ignore that, just my usual gibberish.”

Derek lets a long sigh, his shoulders sagging under the weight of the wold. “I could tell you that this – us – is a bad idea but I don’t think I can walk away from you.”

“And I’d give you some compelling speech about how we should be together and that I don’t care how dangerous it is, etcetera, etcetera” Stiles moves closer to the werewolf, he can feel Derek’s unnatural body heat radiating against his skin. His heart is ponding in his chest, he can hear it in his ears but if he can face hunters, a psycho kid with a gun and a Kanima then he can face Derek Hale. “So let’s skip the melodramatics and get to the good part, agreed?”

Derek leans closer, his lips hovering only inch’s from Stiles’s mouth but it feels like miles and he wants so badly to kiss him again but he knows it’s important that he holds back. His heart is impossibly loud in his head; Derek’s breath is warm against his lips, sending chills down his spine. A heart beat later and Derek’s lips finally find his in rough needy kiss, it’s not romantic, just desperate yet so, _so_ amazing. It takes a few moments to fit their mouths together just right; it’s not so much teeth and hunger now, it settling into something tender.

Stiles could list a bunch of sappy words to explain what kissing Derek Hale is like but instead he’s going to choose just one: Extraordinary. It’s fitting too, because sappy doesn’t suit Derek or Stiles, this is more than some teen romance novel kiss, this is breathtaking, it’s making him feel dizzy and alive, _so alive_. The Alpha holds him close, one large hand cradling the back of his neck and the other pressed firming against the small of his back. Stiles isn’t really sure what to do with his hands, so he just lets them wonder over Derek’s strong back and broad shoulders.

When they finally break apart the teen is gasping for breath, his lips red and swollen but he wants more, more, more. He’s already leaning forward; he’s too far from Derek, he has to feel the heat of the werewolf’s mouth against his, the brush of tongues and sting of teeth. Derek pulls back though, Stiles heart drops to the pit of his stomach. Surely he hasn’t changed his mind, right? There is a rustle of leaves and the teen spins around to find nothing more than the dark stretch of woods, perhaps that’s what made Derek pull back. The guy lived on high alert.

“Is everything ok?”

“Yeah, but we should probably go.”

“Oh, right of course.” He swears he didn’t pout but the thought of leaving this moment behind was too unbearable, if they left now would this not mean anything? If they could just stay here all night then Stiles would never have to doubt what was to come.

Seeming to have sensed his thoughts, Derek smiled at the teen, bowing his head to press a tender kiss to the scar above his eye. It left Stiles feeling weak at the knees, no matter how girly that sounded; it was true, like the wind had been knocked right out of him.

“So we can continue this elsewhere?” Stiles asked, in what he hoped was a suggestive tone.

“To a degree” the wolf replied, already turning towards the Camaro “you are underage.”

“But you’re a big-bad-leather-clad-werewolf, what do you care about the law?”

Derek looked over his shoulder, a somewhat bemused expression on his face, “Since you’re the Sheriff’s son.”

Well damn.

**XxX**

Stiles wakes up screaming; frantically searching for a weapon he doesn’t need, preparing to fight creatures that aren’t there. He’s still fighting off his nightmare when he feels strong arms grip his wrists, keeping them pinned to the bed. Panic rushes over him, he’s very much awake and ready to yell or hit or kick until he is safe. Then he sees the shadowy face looming over him, smells the familiar scent of the woods that means Derek, which means he is safe.

The light on his nightstand is flickered on and now he can see Derek’s face clearly, eyes shining with concern. He wants to lie and say he’s fine, that it was nothing but his voice is roar from screaming and one can’t lie to werewolves, they know every little secret. Right now though he doesn’t want to talk about it, its late and since Derek is here – in his bed he might add – he will most likely be able to fall back asleep and even if he doesn’t he can at least spend the rest of his night snuggled up to his sourwolf.

“What was that about?” Derek startled Stiles, he thought the Alpha wasn’t going to pry, clearly he was wrong.

“I don’t want to talk about it” Stiles confessed “it was horrible but it’s over and it was just a dream, well nightmare but nightmares can’t really hurt you.” Or maybe they could? He’d check that out later though.

Derek sighed, his warm breath whispering over Stiles’s face. “Stiles, this isn’t the first time I’ve seen you have nightmares like this.”

_“You sounded… you sounded so afraid… and you wouldn’t wake up.”_ Stiles remembers that morning, screaming his way into consciousness, the frantic look in Derek’s eyes. “I’m afraid,” he confessed, burying his face in Derek’s shirt, taking in the scent of forest and aftershave “I’m afraid for my dad, for Scott and for you and I am really afraid for myself because you and Scott have claws and fangs and I have nothing to protect myself with.” Stiles feels Derek tightened his hold on him, can feel him place a tender kiss to his hair before he breaths in his scent, “So, yeah, I’m afraid all of the time and then I go to sleep and I dream of terrifying things and then I wake up and I replay it all over again, all day long.” Stiles takes a deep breath, forcing away the tears before Derek can notice though he probably already has, judging by the way he’s nuzzling at his neck and pressing feather light kisses against his skin.

“It’s over, Stiles” The Alpha gently forced the teen to look up at him “Gerard is dead; Jackson is no longer the Kanima and we all made it out alive.”

“But we don’t know if Gerard is dead, no one’s found his body and what about back from the dead Peter? He has to be up to something, he’s seedy and creepy and we can’t trust him, Derek.”

“I don’t trust him!” There was a flash of red in the darkness; Stiles leant towards the werewolf to press a quick calming kiss to his lips “and if Gerard is somehow still alive, I will tear him limb from limb before he can even think about going near you.”

“What about Erica and Boyd? Did you find them?”

Derek sighed, burying his face in the teen’s neck, drinking in his scent. “They’re safe” It was a lie but he’d deal with the consequence later. “We’re safe.”

Stiles sighed heavily, dropping back down onto the pillows, fatigue pulling him back into the dark, “Safe and sound?”

Derek huffed a small laugh; it made Stiles’s heart flutter. “Go to sleep.”

With Derek here, his arms wrapped around him, his heart drumming a soft lullaby to sing him to sleep Stiles felt safe, he felt protected for the first time in a long while.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm not 100 precent sure if there will be another story to this series but if my muse gives me a good idea I will continue it =)


End file.
